I pull back from Remy’s embrace, wiping away the last traces of tears. “So what now?”
“Now?” His eyes darken. “We destroy him. Methodically. Completely.”
“Just like that?” I study his face, searching for any hesitation. “You’ll help me take down one of your most powerful clients?”
“Ano Montoni hid stuff from me and crossed lines even I won’t tolerate.” Remy’s voice carries an edge of steel. “And he made the fatal mistake of targeting you.”
“This isn’t just about me anymore.” My fingers curl against his chest. “There are girls out there right now, being bought and sold like cattle. While their families search for them, while police dismiss them as runaways—"
“I know. Let’s make sure Ano never makes another daughter feel that way again.”
The weight of his words settles between us—a promise, a partnership, a shared mission forged in blood and darkness. His touch anchors me as we stand in his kitchen, plotting the destruction of an empire.
“Together?” I ask, needing to hear him say it.
“Together.” Remy’s voice carries absolute certainty. “We’ll tear his world apart, piece by piece until there’s nothing left but ashes.”
The heat of Remy’s body against mine makes focusing difficult. His fingers trace my jaw, tilting my face up toward his. The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine—not from fear, but from anticipation.
Just as Remy leans in, the door swings open.
Marcus stands in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral despite walking in on such an intimate moment. I try to step back, but Remy’s grip keeps me close, his irritation evident.
“This better be important.” The dangerous edge in Remy’s voice would make most men flinch. Marcus doesn’t even blink.
“Montoni just called. He wants a meeting with you, Remy.”
Ice floods my veins at the mention of my father’s name. “A meeting? For what?”
Marcus’s gaze flicks between us. “He wants to talk before transferring the rest of the payment. He’s calling it a celebration of sorts—a chance to toast your ‘success.’ At his estate.”
The temperature in the kitchen seems to drop several degrees. Remy sets his coffee down with deliberate care, leaning forward. His expression darkens into something dangerous. “Did he say anything else? Sound off in any way?”
Marcus shakes his head, maintaining that infuriating professional calm. “No. He was all business, even cordial. If there’s anything planned, it wasn’t obvious.” His gaze flicks to me before returning to Remy. “But this is Montoni—we can’t rule out the possibility of a trap.”
“And you trust that?” My voice comes out sharp enough to cut. Both men turn to look at me, but I can’t contain the acid in my tone. “Ano doesn’t do ‘cordial’ unless he’s planning something particularly nasty.”
“When?” Remy’s question slices through the tension.
“Tonight. Eight o’clock at his home.”
“Tonight?” The word explodes from me. My hands begin to shake, and I grip the counter to steady them. “No. That’s too soon. We can’t—I haven’t even…” My thoughts spiral into chaos. “Heath has crucial information. I need to talk to him and get his statement on record. The investigation isn’t ready to publish—”
“Eve.” Remy’s voice carries a warning, but I barrel on.
“You can’t go to that meeting.” The words rush out, desperation making them rough. “Ano never does anything without multiple angles. If he’s inviting you to his estate, acting friendly…” I swallow hard, memories of other 'friendly' gatherings at that house flooding back. “He knows something. Or suspects enough to want you close.”
“Which is exactly why I need to go.” Remy’s tone brooks no argument. “If he’s planning something or suspects anything, it’s better to face it head-on than wait for him to strike.”
“You don’t understand.” My fingers dig into the marble countertop. “That house… it’s not just a house. It’s his fortress. Every room, every corridor is designed to his advantage. The security system alone—”
“I’ve been there before,” Remy cuts in, his eyes hard. “Many times.”
“Not like this.” I meet his gaze, willing him to understand. “Not as a potential threat.” My voice drops to barely above a whisper. “Not as someone he might need to eliminate.”
The silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush us all.
I watch Remy pace, his movements controlled yet betraying an underlying tension. Each step is calculated, like a predator sizing up its territory. My fingers trace the rim of my coffee mug, now gone cold.
